Grief
by Miyabita
Summary: Alec only has his memories and his regret. Spoilers for City of Glass. Takes place the night of the funeral.


Disclaimer: _The Mortal Instruments_ and all its respective characters, places, etc. belongs to Cassandra Clare, not me. No money is being made here.

Author's Note: First fic for TMI. And, by the Angel, I hope the formatting holds or a certain website and I will be having words… oh yes we will. Also, to ariviand, you're absolutely awesome, and I never would have posted a fic here without your constant poking and prodding. Love you, girl! =D

* * *

**Grief**

By Miyabita

The upholstery in the chair was coming apart.

Alec had spent the last half hour digging deep groves into the arms of the chair with his fingernails, his thoughts running in incoherent circles that left him feeling cold and somewhat hopeless. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of people, tears, and bleak farewells. Clary's news about Valentine's demands to the Clave also did nothing to calm his nerves. Death was imminent.

_Death… Max…_

A sharp knock brought him out of his thoughts. He blinked, looking around.

Moments passed. Then, another knock, this one louder than the first.

With what felt like great effort, Alec moved from the chair towards the door. He reached for the knob, the metal feeling cold in his hand.

Magnus Bane stood perched in the doorway, looking half bored and half irritated.

The fog that had wrapped around Alec's mind began to lift, and the events of the last hour played back for him. Simon, walking up to see Isabelle. Jace, leaving with Clary. And Alec…

Alec remembered sitting alone for a while, watching the second hand of the grandfather clock in the living room move around the clock face. He remembered finally getting up to fetch a glass of water. He remembered grabbing a piece of paper and a pen in a moment of desperation, touching it with his stele, watching the message disappear.

He hadn't thought the warlock would show. The message hadn't even said anything other than "I need you". And here Magnus was, standing in the doorway, looking at him with borderline anger. The emotions that had gone away with the fog were beginning to creep back upon him, and Alec suddenly felt very, very unsteady.

"I'm not your call boy, Shadowhunter," Magnus snapped, looking at him with bored interest. "I'll have you know I—" Magnus stopped, catching sight of Alec's face... the downcast eyes, the slight shake of his shoulders. Something was wrong. Very wrong. "Alec?" he asked, voice quiet now. "What is it?"

For several long moments, there was silence. Alec's hand gripped the doorknob, his fingers clutching at it for support, knuckles turning white as he stared up at the warlock with glassy eyes.

"Max is dead," he whispered. And then, as if he had just come to the realization, as if saying the words aloud suddenly made everything crash into him with a sort of burning reality, he said again, "Max... is _dead_."

There was a sudden pain in his chest, as if he couldn't get enough air, and he tugged at his shirt, wondering why it suddenly felt so hard to breathe. His body pitched to the side, knocking up against the door. He felt almost drunk, dizzy. He couldn't stand, couldn't see. The world was blurry and he didn't know why. Somewhere, he heard his name, but it sounded as if it were from a distance.

Alec crumpled to the ground, knees banging against the carpet, hands still clutching at his white shirt. He realized now why his chest hurt so much; he was sobbing. All day he had kept it in, all evening he had held his composure. The eldest son, the rock of the family. He wouldn't cry, but instead, he'd be the one everyone else could cry _on_. And yet now he couldn't stop. He saw his little brother's face; his eyes wide as they peered up at Alec from behind black rimmed glasses. He was clutching a book to his chest - Max always _had _loved to read. They had always talked - Alec and his sister - about how Max might not make it as a Shadowhunter. Perhaps he would be more of a tutor-type, a librarian. They certainly couldn't see their little brother as a _fighter_.

"Alec, it's not your fault."

But it was. He was the older brother, the protector of his siblings. Yet, he had always shrugged Max off, treated him like a _child_. He was a child, but... Alec remembered how all he had wanted at Max's age was to be like his father, to fight demons and take the Marks and use his first stele. He'd hated being told to go to his room, hated leaving in the midst of a conversation about demons and battles and fighting. Max had felt the same. That's why he liked Jace so much. Jace, who always told Max about his latest "adventure". Jace, who snuck out back and taught Max how to use a seraph blade. Jace, who listened to Max and didn't disregard him like Alec did. Max had probably died _hating_ Alec; some older brother he was.

"Alec," a voice gently chided, "your brother didn't hate you."

Alec opened his eyes, suddenly disoriented. Blinking several times, he realized Magnus was kneeling in front of him. At some point, Alec had grabbed a hold of the warlock's shirt for purchase. He was currently crying into said shirt. Fingers were splayed on the back of Alec's neck, rubbing smooth circles into his skin in relaxing patterns. Magnus's other hand was resting on Alec's hip. He looked up at the warlock.

"Your brother," Magnus said again, "didn't hate you." Belatedly, Alec realized he must have been babbling at the same time he was sobbing.

Alec shook his head. "That's not—" he began to protest, but Magnus was quick to cut him off.

"I saw the way he looked at you that day I came to open the Portal. You were busy watching... Jace. But Max, your brother, he was watching you. He was trying to stand like you, all relaxed against the wall. He kept glancing over at you to see if he'd got it right. Alec, he loved you."

That pain was back in his chest, and Alec couldn't fight the sobs as they wracked his body again. He had always been so wrapped up in his own needs and problems; he'd never given Max the time of day. And now it was too late. Max was gone, and all he had were memories, and even those were few and far between and filled with regret.

"It's not fair," he finally choked out.

"It rarely is."

"He should've killed me. That bastard should've killed _me_."

His chin was jerked up. Magnus's eyes were narrowed and furious.

"Don't say that," he ground out. "Don't you _ever_ say that."

Alec swallowed but said nothing.

They stared at each other for several minutes before Magnus asked, "Where's your sister?"

"Upstairs with the vampire... Simon." Alec's voice felt dry and cracked. He wondered how long he'd been crying.

"Your parents?"

"Meeting with Luke. They sent a fire message; they won't be back tonight."

Magnus took this in. Another moment passed. Alec watched as the warlock swallowed, as if forcing himself to say something.

"Jace?" he finally questioned.

"Went with Clary. Said he'd be back, but I doubt it." There was no bitterness in Alec's voice, no longing or lust for Jace, no hatred for Clary. Alec wondered if it was because of the encroaching numbness he suddenly felt or because he really _didn't_ care if Jace wanted to spend the night with Clary.

"And you were just going to spend the night here alone?"

"Yeah. I don't know what possessed me to send you that message. Sorry if I bothered you." He ducked his head, starting to pull away from the warlock and push himself off the floor. Magnus, apparently, was having none of it.

"I'm staying the night."

Alec's head snapped up, his eyes wide as he stared at Magnus. Was he crazy? He couldn't stay here. That just wasn't...

"I'm _staying the night_," Magnus said again, this time with finality. It wasn't a question; it was a fact. Alec felt a kind of weariness suddenly wash over him. Maybe it was better this way... Magnus taking the decision out of his hands. One less thing to worry about.

"Come on, Shadowhunter. Show me to your room."

"Don't," Alec heard himself say. Magnus looked at him, head tilted a little to the side in confusion. "Don't call me that."

"Shadowhunter?"

Alec nodded. He wanted to say, "Don't call me that because it sounds impersonal" or "Don't call me that because I don't deserve to be one" or something like that. He wanted to tell Magnus that he felt a strange distance between himself and the warlock whenever Magnus referred to him by his profession. He wanted to express that he hated everything about being a Shadowhunter right then, because if he wasn't one, he would've stayed with Max, and maybe his younger brother would be alive right now. Instead, he had felt the need to go off and kill demons.

He wanted to say all these things, but his lips wouldn't work. Instead, he looked up at Magnus and hoped the warlock could understand what he wanted to say... somehow.

Something flickered behind Magnus's gaze, but all he said was, "Whatever you want, Alec."

Alec wanted a lot of things. He wanted to cry, he wanted to kiss Magnus until he was dizzy and incapable of remembering anything that had happened over the last few days, he wanted sleep and the silence it would bring to his thoughts...

He wanted Max back.

"Come on," he heard Magnus say again. "You and I both need sleep." Alec watched as Magnus smoothly got to his feet, and then there was a hand reaching down and yanking him up by his upper arm. The same hand moved down to encircle Alec's wrist, and he felt himself following Magnus up the stairs.

"Where's your room?"

Alec heard himself give out directions, felt himself being pulled in said direction, but it all seemed to happen to another person... as if he wasn't really going through the motions himself, but watching from the sidelines. He felt numb and tired and cold. He wondered how long it took for grief to go away.

Magnus's hand was opening a door now, and Alec was drawn into the semi-familiar setting of his new room. His bag was thrown into a corner, several weapons scattered on the ground. Over a chair hung his Shadowhunter clothes. It was probably the messiest he had ever been, but he hadn't really been thinking about cleaning that day.

A soft click issued from behind him, and he turned, watching as Magnus approached him.

"Sit," he ordered, gesturing towards the bed behind Alec.

Alec sat.

Magnus proceeded to unlace Alec's boots and tug them off, placing them next to the desk chair. His socks were next. Then the warlock moved away. Alec watched him rummage through the discarded bag, pulling a pair of pajama bottoms and a worn T-shirt from the sack. He handed them to Alec, pointing to the bathroom that connected to the room.

"Change. You'll feel better."

Alec doubted there was anything that could make him feel better at that moment, but he went through the motions, as he was too tired to argue with Magnus. When he came out of the bathroom, Magnus had the comforter and bed sheets tossed back and was lounging on one side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"You don't have to stay."

"I know." Magnus patted the empty patch of bed next to him. "You need rest, Alec."

Numbly, Alec walked over to the bed and got in, his eyes feeling oddly heavy as he lay his head back against the pillow. A snap sounded next to him, and the lights were instantly extinguished, the room being plunged into darkness. Alec felt the bed shift, and Magnus's body was suddenly pressed up against his side.

"Don't..." Alec whispered.

"I locked your door. Shut up." It wasn't a suggestion.

Lips pressed against his cheek, and Alec's eyelids fluttered shut at the contact, reveling at how warm and alive he felt when Magnus kissed him.

"Do you think Max would've approved?" He didn't know where the thought had come from, but he felt the need to speak it aloud. He could feel Magnus hovering over him now, and, though he couldn't see it, he was sure the warlock was frowning, could hear it in his voice when he spoke.

"Of us, you mean? Or that you're gay?"

"Both," he breathed.

"Then yes to both."

Silence. Then, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would he approve?"

"Alec, he's your brother. What makes you think he wouldn't?" Alec said nothing. Magnus sighed. "Where did you get this stupid notion in your head that he hated you, anyway?"

"It's not stupid, I—" A hand was pressed against his mouth and the rest of his words came out muffled and strained.

"Shut up, _Shadowhunter_. And get it through that thick skull of yours that the vast majority of the world does not care that Alec Lightwood is gay!" he hissed, clearly frustrated with Alec's continuing string of protests. Alec couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Magnus so upset, and he stopped straining, worried he'd offended the only person attempting to abate his grief.

"He loved you, stupid."

Alec's eyes fluttered shut again as Magnus moved his hand away from Alec's mouth, settling beside him once more.

Tension fell between them in the silence that followed.

"Sorry."

The word was so very, very quiet, but it conveyed the depth of emotion Alec was feeling, and Magnus draped an arm over the Shadowhunter's waist.

"If you apologize again, I'm gagging you."

"I only apolo—"

Lips were pressed against his own, effectively silencing him. The chuckle against his lips was low and throaty.

"It was a joke," Magnus said, pulling away. "Go to sleep."

Though amusement had crept back into the warlock's voice, Alec recognized the thinly veiled order for what it was and relaxed against the pillow. Silence fell between them once more, this time comfortable and soothing. Magnus's breath fell in light puffs against the back of his neck, and Alec wondered if this was what it might be like between them, if he ever found the courage, if they ever lived together, if he could always spend the night with Magnus...

"You're thinking. I know you're thinking. Go. To. Sleep."

For the first time in what felt like forever, Alec smiled, letting his eyes close and his worries float away. Max was dead and the approaching battle lay cold and daunting before him, but right now he felt safe and warm in the circle of Magnus's arms.

And he slept.


End file.
